From Grief, Depression, or Illness to Positivity & Healing

March 6, 2009

Grief – Does it stop?

Filed under: MY Story of Grief — by Sue @ 2:17 pm
My mum=D
My mum=D
I wrote this Feb 11, 2008 – 8 months after my mum had passed away.
Well it’s 8 months yesterday since my mum died. I can’t believe how fast time goes, yet at the same time it seems like it’s been forever: forever since I’ve heard her voice, forever since I’ve heard her call me Darlin and forever since I’ve been able to hear her laugh. I feel bad, because I didn’t even pay attention to the date, although it’s amazing how our subconscious mind works. I had two dreams in a row about her this weekend on Friday and Saturday – my dreams about her were starting to fade, yet on Saturday night it was the one that I used to have when she died – that I’d be in her hospital room and I either didn’t make it to Scotland in time, or that I did and I got to say goodbye, with her being awake and not in a coma – neither of those came true because thankfully I did make it in time but she was in a coma for my goodbye. Then on Sunday, I just kept remembering silly things, and would tear up. It wasn’t until my dad called late afternoon that I realized the date – he said he’d brought flowers to the cemetary and a Valentines day card – I was thinking, that’s odd – why not leave it to Valentine’s day but before I got a chance to ask he said it’s hard to believe it’s 8 months! So although I wasn’t paying attention to the date, something made me remember it from my emotions.

I read a little blurb on grieving yesterday from the book “Grieving the Death of a Mother” by Harold Ivan Smith and I thought it fit:

Grief for a mother will have its days – sometimes long after the rituals are over & condolence cards have stoped coming in the mail. Whenever I’m convinced that grief is “done” BANG! It’s back. As if there’s an invisible chord that pulls me back to my grief: there is – memory.

It does not matter who you are or how high or low your status in society: how old or young you are, how experienced you are in teh black and blue realities of life, how clever you are with words. Losing a mother wounds. (Harold Ivan Smith).


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